Written by lowerbase :: [Monday, 15 May 2017 04:35] Last updated by :: [Monday, 15 May 2017 08:38]
Cindy bought me a $30 skate shoes, at that same store, she spent $400 bucks on shoes, pants and shirts, all sports apparel. “Are you sure dad will be okay with it?” I asked as I helped her to carry half a dozen shopping bags.
“It was his idea.”
“Really?” Cindy exited the store wearing one of her brand new outfits, nothing too revealing, but her black pants showed what her running legs were made of. Her shirt strained around her arms, with very short sleeves, and at every mirrored wall of the mall, she checked herself out in a glance, fixing her dark hair behind her ear, watching the little ball of muscle in her arm to jump a little, attracting some stares she wasn’t used to.
She eyed some knee high boots on the way back to the car, I guessed she never had the courage to wear one of those before, but looking at the price tag after spending a small fortune already she said, “maybe next time.” At least she bought some 'regular' shirts and jeans before leaving, on my advice.
At home, of course, mom would have something to say about the shopping spree, “why to spend money if you have not stopped with this disorder! It will be all useless in a month, don’t you know that?”
“They are all stretchable, mom.”
“And where you are going to use clothes like these?” Mom tossed Cindy’s clothes around the table like trash, “you want to show yourself? You should look at yourself. You look like a boy.” She gestured implying Cindy’s lack of any breasts, “Don’t you have any self-awareness?” Again, Cindy looked at me with any hope that I would take her side. Mom was a bitch towards Cindy, always has been, and I didn’t need mom to bitch about me.
Once Cindy took her stuff and shut herself in her bedroom, mom saw my eyes judging her, “what?"
“Sometimes, mom, I think you are the one who wanted to have been bitten.”
She didn’t know what to say at the first moment, she was once a fitness nutty, dad even helped her to produce an aerobics class video series decades ago. She was pretty fit for her age, going to the gym every other day, but she would be never as fit as Cindy was then. Mom started to laugh, “funny, Nicholas, you are really funny. Just like you father.”
Around midnight, after everyone went to bed, I found Cindy in the kitchen eating ice cream directly from the bucket, wearing just one of her old shirts that went to her mid-thighs, and I asked, “are you okay?” Usually, eating that much ice cream was a sign of female depression, as I learned from the movies.
“I can’t sleep … you know I have a better hearing now …” She said filling her mouth with more ice cream.
“Really? How better?”
“I can listen to any conversation at home from my bedroom. Even when dad farts in the shower.”
“Shit, that doesn’t sound such a good improvement.”
“I know, I hear stuff I wasn’t supposed to hear, you know. Like dad and mom arguing over me, or what you said to her some hours ago, about mom wanting it to be happening with her.”
“It all make sense now. It can only be envy. She must know how dad feels about strong women, and that’s why she put so much effort in staying in shape. She doesn’t hate me, she’s hating what I’m becoming.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
"I’m already doing it,” she took another scoop of ice cream to her mouth. I noticed she had her phone on the table, and she was reading an article about metabolic differences between normal girls, and bitten girls.
“Are you going to be fat again?”
“Nothing can make me fat again, but … I want to crush her arguments one by one. Like that one that I look like a boy.”
I looked down at her chest, “Oh, you mean …” I also noticed the butter over the table, also with a spoon on it.
“Yeah, the more high-fat food I eat, sugar, yeah, more they grow … and my butt. It won’t take longer to have juggs bigger than hers, if I want,” she said.
I scratched my head, trying to find a way to defuse the situation, “Cindy, have you heard that being bitten increase competitiveness tenfold, especially among women?”
“Game on,” she replied with another scoop.
Before I left her alone with her high-fat food, she said with a smaller, less threatening voice, “thanks for defending me.”
She gave me ‘thanks,' in years, that was a first.
The world outside was halting and catching fire because of the presidential election. After Donald Trump was found dead of a heart-attack in a hotel room and Hillary had her medical files exposed, the election was between the very old Bernie Sanders and the very young Jessica Delano.
Ted Cruz or Trump had no chances of winning anyway. Still, there were plenty of conspiracy theories about Trump's sudden death. Many believed it was the CIA.
I'd be on the streets fighting for Bernie. But all that noise felt far away, someplace else. I had more pressing issues in my life.
Before I got completely depleted of weed, I paid some visit to Thomas. This time, he was at home. “Man, we are smoking too much, or someone is stealing from me,” he said. Shit. It was one of those moments that I had to decide, to tell the truth, or lie. “There are very few people who know about buddha, not even my older brothers know about it.” He said looking at my poker face, “and you stop asking for more … which is strange.”
“Do you think it was me?” I said defensively.
He only raised his left eyebrow at me. I couldn't lie anymore, “Okay, it was me. Sorry. I needed it desperately, but it was not for me. I came here to ask for more, but you are never home.”
“Dude … that’s low. I trusted you. Now you have to get your pot from someone else.”
“It was the most unusual situation. It is still is. I’ll be dead if I can’t bring her more.”
“Yeah, my sister was bitten by the queen. It helps to tame her … fuse.”
“Seriously? The only chick in town who got bitten is your fat sister? What’s her name again?”
“Dude, I’ve been dreaming of getting one of those. You know I’m a tall guy, and this place only has midgets. I always wanted to fuck someone of my size for a change … no meaning I’m disrespecting your sister. I’ve heard those chicks are crazy insane in bed, they fuck you dry.”
“Tom, she’s a virgin … she never had a boyfriend.”
“Well, she has to learn somewhere. I have a lot to teach her. You have your weed, I have a tall chick, and she becomes a woman. It is a win-win-win.” Putting like that, he had a point, but Cindy was still too emotionally unstable to have her lifelong crush to bang her and disappear on the next day.
“How tall is she? Is she still growing?”
“She’s still 5’8. She reached my height a week ago. She’s also a little clumsy, not only that. She’s fucking strong. She can lift you like a sack of potatoes. She bent her phone holding it while discussing with my mother. The last time we had no weed, she nearly fucked up with my shoulders, and she was not as big. It is scary how strong she’s getting.”
“She has muscles, are you into that? Her biceps are getting larger than mine.” I flexed my thirteen inches and half arms, good enough for a guy who never lifts, Thomas wasn't too different.
“I like athletic girls. So hard to find in this town. Tall and athletic, it is a dream come true. How’s the size of her breasts?”
“What? She has none?”
“No, actually, they are overgrowing the clothes she bought weeks ago. But you know … She’s my sister. Her breasts are … off limits.”
“Ha! Nic, come on. From what you are describing, she’s a whole other person, dude. You are a guy, how can any expect to not pay attention to a girl that is overflowing her clothes under the same roof! What’s their size, it is a D already?”
“Why don’t you look on her Instagram. I’m not going to talk about my sister’s breasts.” Since she got her new clothes, Cindy started to post a lot more her pictures. Her page was full of stalkers commenting on every shot. Yes, a lot more now since she begun to ‘feed her breasts,' which now mom thinks that are too big, and they were still a borderline D. She has not stopped feeding them. The tops she wore showed a cleavage like two perfect spheres just jutting from her chest, like two rising stars wanting the spotlight. And now without a bra to fit them. I had to get used to seeing them bouncing around, fighting with the elasticity of her tops that grew smaller around her torso that was filling up with muscles of a Crossfit celebrity.
Speaking of it, “hey, that’s my shirt!” I said as Thomas scrolled down the images of Cindy on his computer. My old Led Zeppelin shirt strained and deformed around those breasts.
“Cindy is a fucking fox, dude. How can you live with that?” Thomas said. I stopped looking at her photo feed, because yes, she was getting too hot. Her waist shrunk down and her hips widened, her legs seemed super long, she looked like another person. Cindy was becoming well aware of the impact of her body over guys. At times I thought she was playing to be oblivious.
At other times, she purposely seemed to want to distract me, to make me look while doing the most mundane stuff, testing my resolve of looking the other way when she came around. Flexing her arms near the side of me was becoming a pastime of her, maybe to emasculate me or whatever, seating by the couch, twitching those muscles or talking about their present size, as if she wanted to take from me the same reaction from her online stalkers, or any reaction at all. I wouldn't give her any. Maybe my pretended indifference was making things worse.
Of course, it was not just me. Dad and Geoffrey shut their mouths once she bounced down the stairs to the kitchen, wearing her leggings or shorts showing her developed thighs that were building muscles as fast as her breasts. Mom, of course, watching her daughter filling up in a good sense affected us all, Cindy was crushing her mood, of seeing dad doing an extra mile to please Cindy, because now the house had a new center of attention, and it was not her anymore.
Mom tried her snide remarks on Cindy's body, but Cindy literally grew above that. Cindy’s ‘juggs’ got indeed larger so fast that mom called them of ‘tumors,' and it didn’t look to faze Cindy by the slightest. Cindy said while stoned, “Gee, mom, your bras don’t fit me anymore. These tumors are really getting out of control!” She said with her mouth full of cheesecake while putting another larger slice on her plate, thrusting her chest forward. The more mom provoked her more I’d find Cindy finishing faster the ice cream that dad kept refilling the fridge every three days. Mom didn’t eat more than her salads, another reason for resentment.
“So, dude, deal?” Thomas asked.
“I won’t trade my sister for weed, man.” His phone beeped messages from other girls. “Besides, I know how you treat those girls,” I said.
“What? What you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean. You discard those girls like cigarette butts.”
“Oh, I’m the bad guy … Who's the one that steals his best friend?”
“It is my sister, man. It is not stuff that you can turn around and forget. Whatever shit you do with her, I’ll have to live with it.”
“I won’t do this with her … I want to fuck her now, and then when she surpass your height, and then your dad’s, fuck her when she reaches my own, and then when she outstrips my own, it’ll be a rollercoaster, dude … besides, I could just send her a message. But you are her brother, so I want your blessings.”
“She has some short fuses …”
“Don’t you said she just need weed to relax?”
“Alright … and yeah, I couldn’t stop you both anyway. She has a crush on you since kindergarten. But be careful with her, really, be gentle. She's a bit explosive, handle with care. For your own safety.”
“I’ll be. She’s a nice girl. Hey, I’ve heard these girls can grow breasts almost at will, maybe I can convince her to have really, big, immense perfect breasts to play, like unworldly huge, wouldn’t you like to like to see this every day in your home? It is a quadruple win.”
Thomas was thinking just with his cock, and generally, it doesn’t make the best decisions.
I would need to plug my console elsewhere. Anytime I turned it on, Cindy would appear and hang on to me and talk about her ‘problems.’ Evidently, when her eyes went purple, everyone treated her differently, if not perturbed by them, especially in school, but also her nerdy friends.
Like all other times, she would open the front door and shut it with her increasing strength, making some mom’s paintings to fall from the wall, and she crashed on the couch, with zero respect for my spare time to play my games. “I need new friends,” she said picking up one of my old rusted screwdrivers, bending and unbending to maintain her hands occupied. “I also need a new school.” She said as the screwdriver split in half.
I rolled my eyes as I heard the pop, “what’s the matter?” I'd guess I became the only one she could talk about becoming super Cindy.
“Freddy tried to grab my breasts today.” Freddy was a short guy with she used to walk together to school, and I thought he had clueless feelings about her. “I don’t know … I think I overreacted a bit … I grabbed his fingers and crushed … a little.”
I paused the game. “Freddy did that? Freddy?” I looked at her, nowadays she had a deep cleavage and lost most of her modesty as if they were new toys she wanted to show other kids, as much as her new muscles. They probably were the biggest pair in school after the fat girls. Maybe an E, or double E. Not sure. She seemed unaware that they were pointy, looking up and to the sides, unnerving to anyone.
"Yeah, guys get all weirded out with these. I thought that was nice in the beginning, now, they just stare, stop talking when I’m around, get all instantly retarded.”
Poor Cindy. She thought by now she would be the most popular girl in school. Instead, she’s getting resented that now that she had superior reflexes and far superior strength, everyone took it as cheating, aka 'purple cheating;' just as her breasts developed beyond genetics, just because she wanted to. She could jump higher than the best basketball pro players, could score a goal from the other side of the field, even in the chess and debate teams, would get all destroyed by her if the parents and teachers allowed her to participate in these events. To them, a 'purple cheater' was completely unfair. For Cindy, she felt that everyone became unfair with her.
She took another old screwdriver, and it resisted less than the other one. Good thing I learned to hide all my good tools from her. “I mangled Freddy's fingers little a bit … I guess Freddy in on the hospital by now. Shit … didn’t he know he shouldn’t mess with me? I’m fucking dangerous. Doesn’t he know that?”
“Does his parents know what you did?”
“He did it himself. It was just a reflex of my part, and it wasn't my fault. He wasn't the first to try to … grope them. Freddy was too ashamed to tell what happened. I should be locked at home until I get all this strength under control. Fuck, I don’t want to hurt anyone! Everything I do … hurt everyone else one way or another. Guys that never talked to me, or made fun of me when I was fat, are after me now. Buying me stuff … so fucking awkward, it creeps me out. I remember in detail everything they did to me. How do they think I would forget? More than once I just crushed whatever was inside and trashed it in a bin on the other side of the room. You know what happened then? One of those pussies started to cry. Fucking crying for being rejected. I’ve been rejected my whole life, and I never cried!” Oh, sis, such a liar, I remember once that Thomas called her by the wrong name, and she shut in her bedroom for the entire weekend.
Geoffrey entered the room, and once he saw Cindy on the couch, he turned away, but she called him back, “Hey, Moon is Harsh Mistress, page 381, go get me some ice cream now. Coconut Bliss, four full scoops. Hurry up, pipsqueak.”
“Don’t call him like that,” I said. Cindy had a penalty of each page my stupid little brother tore from her collection.
“That pipsqueak used to call me Blob,” she told me, Geoffrey then pointed at me and said to her, “Nic once called you Blob too.” Thanks, brother. “Get yourself the ice cream,” Geoffrey said as he turned his back to her and went away.
I saw a vein to pulse in Cindy's forehead and went after him. I put my controller away to stop her from ending my brother’s life. In the corridor, she was holding him up against the wall by his neck with a single hand, preventing him from breathing, “fucking stop it, Cindy!” Before I could reach her arm, she took my throat and lifted me together with Geoffrey also closing my air pipe against the wall.
Cindy gazed at us both suspended by her strong muscular arms, “you should learn, the little sister here has razor thin patience, and she is going thru a lot. A little understanding of my situation from you both is the very least I want. This is only the beginning, as I have a lot to grow yet. If you two want to survive to the other side … don’t provoke me.”
She dropped us. We took big gulps of air before coughing our lungs out.
“Forget the ice cream pipsqueak, but the next time I ask you something, get it ready. Nic, next time you get on my way, I’ll handle you the old fashion way like mom used to do to us, but a thousand times worse.”
I was ready to call her a psycho and a bitch, and she waited for those words to come out of my mouth. I decided to say nothing, neither did Geoffrey, as we watched her walking away with those squat champion legs that could crush a tree between them.
Like that, Cindy might have lost her last pal. Me.
Despite the weed, Cindy was behaving like a bitch again, a very dangerous bitch. That had to stop somehow before a real ‘accident’ happens. If she wanted to hurt any of us, she would have done easily. While it was an impulse, an anger burst, it was a very controlled explosion, at the very least, it was a fraction of her strength. Her only redemption was that there was something inside telling her to control it.
Still, it was getting too scary, Cindy was bending metals with her hands, soon, she'd do with her fingers alone. Geoffrey asked me what we could do, and asked if we should go to the police. We both had marks on our necks as she left the house. Dad would never allow us to call the cops, while mom might call immediately. At every discussion dad was taking Cindy’s side over mom's more and more frequently, actually, he became the best dad ever, and just for her. Geoffrey and I became somewhat invisible to dad, and mom was too self-centered and narcissist to pay attention to us. Either way, it would all about Cindy, and not us. Bringing them to stop Cindy could make things worse for him, me … perhaps the cops. Maybe ending with a divorce at best, and jury and prison for Cindy, at worse.
What was she doing outside? By the window, I noticed that the dead tree right before our home had crashed down.
Instead of finding a rational exit plan --because we didn’t found any-- we both sat like sat on the TV couch like losers, sulking into some Netflix bullshit, and of course, Cindy saw it right away when she came back.
Neither of us could look her in the eyes. She sat between us, with her hair in a ponytail, a big shirt that did little to hide her breasts, which were a bit too fed. After an hour on the same position watching Narcos, she tried to start a conversation … for a moment I thought she would say ‘sorry,' or at the very least to try to justify why she was so violently stupid with us, but no, she talked about the clouds, anything but the pain I still felt around my throat. “His accent got better,” she said. Cindy wanted to show off she could differentiate accents in another language, big deal.
I just shook my shoulders, “whatever”, and that was the default answer for anything she said, and after a minute of her talking, Geoffrey stood up and left us, over the next minute I did the same, leaving her alone with the show we were supposed to be watching.
I went to bed in that miserable early Friday night watching other bullshit on Youtube, stoned my face and slept. Some hours later I woke to the smell of pizza. Geoffrey and I both picked our heads from our bedrooms to the corridor at the same time. “Did you ordered pizza?” He asked.
“No …” With that fight, no one wanted to step out of our bedrooms. Meaning, we were hungry.
“The smell is too strong. Maybe dad’s back from the short vacation." It has been years since dad stopped doing pizzas at home. We both went downstairs, between the pool and the kitchen we had a big wood-fired oven that hasn’t been lit for ages. Cindy was there brawling with a pizza dough, and stretching it and squishing it back, her new biceps jumping as much as neck and chest new muscles. “Since when you know how to make pizza?” Geoffrey asked.
“Where did you find wood?” I notice that were disks instead of splintered wood.
“Used that old tree that fell on the other side of the street,” she said shrugging, her muscled capped shoulders increased the effect of her shoulder movements.
“One that fell today …”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Which was intact until you left the house.”
“Okay, Sherlock, I lied. It was an old tree. It was dying anyway, it could contaminate other trees, so I just kicked it to ground. Man, I should enter the MMA." She had flour all over her muscular arms, "if that kick went to someone’s back, it would explode heart and lungs.”
“Well … whatever.” I said walking away, calling Geoffrey with me. He wanted that pizza, but not at the price of his pride. He needed to be like Gandhi, learn peaceful resistance to stop the unstoppable. The only way we could prevent her from being such a bitch.
“C’mon guys, I know you are hungry,” she said.
I turned to her, “is that pizza anyway to say that you are sorry for what you did to Geoffrey and me today?”
“No. Why I would do that?” She said opening a cold beer and drank massive gulps.
“Where that beer came from?” After Cindy had spent nearly two thousand dollars in her new wardrobe, dad had to rethink the deal, and he left his card with me for emergencies. Those emergencies didn’t include beer.
“I ordered,” she drunk the whole can and crashed it like napkins, before plowing the dough again.
“With what money?”
“I found some money …”
“Yeah … kind of. Dad got a little pissed of my latest custom made bras,” she said pointing to them, "bras of this size are usually for fat women, he didn't understand that," she made us notice that her tank shirt had ‘obey’ writing and all distorted around her breasts. Without a bra taming them, they would be pointy like Spock’s ears. “People are very careless with cryptocurrencies.”
“Did you stole someone’s money. Are you hacking people?”
She maneuvered the pizza in the oven just like dad used to do, “I’ll give back once I get money on my own and believe me, that won’t be hard with my bigger brain. Besides, I could take hundreds of thousands of dollars, and I took just some thousands. They way crypto coins fluctuate they wouldn’t miss much of that. If they do, they would learn to have better security. I’m doing a good thing for them.”
“To buy beer.”
“Want some?” She tossed one to me before I could reply. With the other arm she removed the pizza from the oven, “this one is done,” Cindy served it in front of Geoffrey's wide eyes, God, he loved pizza, and they looked perfectly made, full of sauce like he asked one from the heavens.
Once Geoffrey sat with a plate and took a piece into his hands, we lost the battle. Cindy won over Gandhi. She had us back without saying sorry or showing any regret for that act. I then opened the cold beer and drank. “How much money you got?” Geoffrey asked.
“Enough. Do you want some more games?”
“Yeah … sure,” he said.
“Okay, later after the movie, I'll let you spend a hundred, how that sounds?” She asked playing with her eyebrows waiting for his reaction. Geoffrey used to implore dad to buy a new game.
“Could you buy me a better graphics card too?” He took her bait. If she said yes, I would lose him forever to her side.
“If you behave, we will see how much one GTX 1070 costs.”
“Oh shit!” He started to embrace her, flour and all. “Sorry for ever calling you a blob,” she eyed at me watching that scene like the cynic that I was. “It is okay, but you called me with that name for the last four years, so it is only fair to call you pipsqueak for the next four years.”
“Yeah, I guess it is fair.”
Cindy made three pizzas, two for us, one with extra-extra cheese for her. Looking at the pile of wood, I asked “where did you get an ax?
“I chopped with a knife. I broke two knives, don’t tell dad, he loves those knives. I put them on an order.” She stole money from some idiot and was playing with knives. Cindy was borderline criminal.
“Are you sure we won’t have police here tomorrow morning?”
“As if the government cares for the crypto. Besides, anonymous transactions supposed to be a feature, now you see why it is a big problem.” Yeah, she was smart with her computer before being bitten, now she must be able to hack the NSA, but overconfidence can be fatal for the most seasoned parachutists.
While Cindy was able to change Geoffrey’s mood with pizza and games, I was not okay with her. I guess that I was pretty clear as I kept saying ‘whatever’ over whatever topic she brought. “So, Star Trek Beyond or Suicide Squad?” She asked.
Both were still in theaters, “dad told us to not download movies. He received three cease and desist letters already!”
“That’s because you even know how to set a VPN. Here, take another beer, cool down your hot head, dummy.” She gave me a can and took another for herself, drinking like an alcoholic. She watched me drink a little, “you drink like a girl,” she said and burped loudly making Geoffrey to giggle at me. I drank the rest of bottle in a few big gulps easily to show her, and she gave me another one and another to herself.
“Can I drink too?” Geoffrey asked.
“No.” I said, but he didn't take it seriously. He looked to Cindy, he never asked her for anything since he was twelve, “Can’t I, Cindy?”
“No. You're underage, pipsqueak,” she said, and completed: “and if you ask again, you are going to bed early, and without games.” He looked down and complied, without protesting as usual, like he did with dad, mom, or me.
We left the place a mess, and I wondered who was going to clean … or whom Cindy would force to clean it. We carried beers and smoked some more pot in my bedroom before watching her pirated movies, without Geoffrey watching, of course.
She had her hair wet after another quick shower, this time, without her tight bra to stop her big conical breasts from tenting the big shirt. At moments like those, it was hard that imagine Cindy inside of that taller, fitter and hotter version of herself. She already had shoulders wider than mine, seemed bigger yet, and I noticed that we were both barefooted. That she was finally slightly taller than me, for a silent moment, we shared the same revelation before I turned away to open the door to leave.
On the TV room, she decided to rearrange the furniture, “let’s move the couch closer,” she said already doing, and before I could go down to help her, she was able to lift it alone. “Stop showing off, Cindy …” I said.
“Oh, you don’t have a clue …” and even drunk and high, she could deal with the leverage of the three seat couch quickly. I saw she smiling a bit before turning her head to the TV; she just loved to show how exceptional she was becoming at everything. Geoffrey dutifully brought the popcorn she ordered him to do in the microwave with precise instructions. She was indulging herself in the role of big sister with revenge.
Seating by my side to watch the new Star Trek, it was hard not to see how spotless her was baby skin, not a single wrinkle on her joints, no marks, no more acne on her face, the scar Cindy got from a bike accident, erased.
I knew that she had a thing for Spock, especially Quinto’s Spock, being the big nerd she was. Dad and Mom should have named her Velma or Matilda, not Cindy. Under her big puffy shirt, her freshly grown breasts free from a bra, her nipples started to poke by just listening to his voice. Her pupils expanded as all her senses targeted at him, lost in a world of her own, biting her lips, even at his sad scenes.
Thankfully, there was not much of Spock in this movie, and her nipples receded as his scenes were shorter, as they were distracting as hell for me. Instead of watching the next film, Geoffrey asked about his games, “only if you get me cookies and cream, pipsqueak. Bring all that is left.” He ran downstairs to make her happy, and she tapped on her phone adding some funds to his steam account. She already had a credit card, and I still had to ask money from dad, and that was more emasculating than her having her ‘cool’ muscles flexing casually at every minute, while I had none.
With more space on the couch, she laid down taking his place, which was not that much space for her longer legs, her feet were pressing on my sides. “This is a shitty movie,” I said after half an hour, “yeah …” she mumbled as I noticed that her nipples were stiff again. Did she have anything going for Will Smith? Harley Quinn? That was odd. I mean, that was new.
After the Joker scene ended, she shifted her hips, “god … he’s so hot …”
“You mean … Jared Leto on the most cringest performance ever?”
“He’s fucking … hot …” I noticed her muscular legs to tremble a bit, what the fuck, Cindy? “Such a weirdo sometimes,” I said, and she threw a pillow at my face like before.
“He's wealthy, confident, powerful, eccentric … desperately in love. How can't this be hot? Retract that,” she warned me, playfully, I guess.
“You found Flynn Rider hot … you wanted a Danny Phantom boyfriend. You've made a Youtube channel for prince Zuko. What's your malfunction?” I knew her too well.
Cindy jumped over me, locking my arms with her hands, “you had a crush over Android 18! Who's you to say who's weirdo? Retract that …” I tried to push my arms, and she used my strength to knock myself in the head, and she laughed at that. Was she still drunk? I didn’t said anything. I just took the opportunity of her laughter to roll us both over to the floor so I could escape. But she got over me again, locking my legs between her thighs forcefully. I couldn't move an inch of them; she was laughing at my futility of escaping her.
I protested as she behaved like the insane Harley Quinn, as I felt the increasing pressure on my lower body, her hands gripping my arms to the carpet, and she wasn’t laughing anymore, her long hair covered most of her face, I saw her eyes shut as her legs pressed against mine painfully harder, “Cindy?” I felt her big breasts brushing my chin, her nipple almost invading my mouth as she was shaking all over, and then she opened her eyes, her voice went steamy deeper than the usual tone of hers, yet her words weirdly betrayed her: “get out of here …”
Cindy tossed me hard to the wall like she wanted to protect me from a ticking bomb, and then was blaring “get out” at me. Her hands went between her legs, as she ordered me out again and again like an angry barking dog. Her face was all distorted on what seemed to be extreme pain, or extreme pleasure? As I stepped back, as Cindy started convulsing right there on what seemed to be a huge orgasm building up, “shut the fucking door!” she mustered to say between her locked teeth.
I closed the door and stepped back in the corridor as she started to grunt louder inside, and surely it was raging hormones. I looked at Geoffrey’s room, and thankfully, he was playing with his headphones without listening to any of that, as Cindy’s cries lasted for the next long two minutes like a roller coaster ride.
Suddenly, there was silence, and then the door opened again; her hair was a mess, the couch and the carpet were all displaced, I noticed her muscular legs all wet as well, if not dripping, and she just said to me, “don’t talk,” as she crossed to her bedroom shutting that door with a bang.
Yeah, Cindy needed a boyfriend. Fast. Urgently. Now. Before her stormy hormones might kill, or rape, someone.
I messaged Thomas to visit us on the next day.